


You'll Do

by dutchmoxie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Unilock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:18:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2857142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dutchmoxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, in a crappy uni pub, Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes finally met face to face. All it takes is a spark of interest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Barriss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barriss/gifts).



> For Sabrina, the AU prompt: "we're the only sober ones right now"

They officially met at uni, in the middle of a local pub that she rarely frequented. It was close to St. Patrick’s Day, which most of the students considered an excellent excuse to get falling-down drunk. Not her though, not Mousy Molly Hooper. She had not yet learned to appreciate the vile taste of the local beer - and she wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to do that much damage to her tastebuds. At some point in the future she would get the taste of the one beer she had consumed - three months ago - out of her mouth. But it was not this day.

This day she was once again boring, sober Molly. She deftly avoided the groping hands of the men as she delivered another round of drinks to her friends. Three beers and one soda.

“It’s the hottest freak on campus,” her friends were whispering and pointing obnoxiously to a tall fellow who had just entered the pub. “He offended professor Jones last week - eviscerated the old man - and he didn’t even get reprimanded for it. Clearly his Daddy paid off the uni to keep him enrolled. What, after everything he’s done he should have been expelled months ago.”

Molly was slightly in awe of the gorgeous bloke with the dark curls. And with the stories her friends were telling, it became obvious that he was indeed the infamous Sherlock Holmes: bane of existence of many a teacher or student. Molly herself had never interacted with him - even though they shared several classes and they were supposed to be chemistry partners. Well, they would have been if he ever showed up to the class in question.

If she wasn’t Mousy Molly Hooper - a nickname her dear friends had ‘lovingly’ bestowed upon her - she might have called him out on his absence. But while she did not live in fear of his particularly vicious putdowns, like her friends probably imagined, she was still hesitant to make the approach.

He was beautiful, and while she knew he was an arsehole, it was easier all around to appreciate his beauty from afar. She was not going to stick around as the only sober person in this pub for much longer. She had lost interest in that long ago.

While she had been contemplating him, Sherlock Holmes had been making more than a few drunks cry with his sharp tongue. Both men and women gave him a wide berth. His sharp eyes had grown bored with the people in this bar already - he was easy enough to read, at least for her. This cruel genius type was not nearly as mysterious as he probably intended to be. She saw more than he wished her to, she was sure of it.

“You,” her study of him had not gone unnoticed. “Yes, you, the plain one. You appear to be unimpaired by the traditional alcoholic stupor. I am in need of a … sober companion. An assistant, perhaps. You’ll do.”

Clearly, she should have been offended at his rudely-worded demands. He insulted both her appearance - not that she was unaware of her plain looks and lack of appeal - and her abilities. She was slightly offended by the latter, but it also seemed that this was a high compliment that this so-called genius rarely bestowed upon anyone. Unlike Lizzy Bennet, Molly Hooper did not bristle at being called something along the lines of “tolerable”.

“Why would Sherlock Holmes need an assistant?” she asked hesitantly, not wanting any more of the pub’s attention on her. “I am sober, by the way.”

His eyes were upon her again - those sharp eyes looking her up and down so closely that she felt like a thingy bug underneath a giant microscope. She felt him study her, from the roots of her light brown her to her feet encased in her plain old Mary Janes. Nothing about her seemed to surprise him all that much, but she swore that she was a flash of interest in his chameleon eyes. She briefly wondered what he could possibly see in her that would hold his interest, then decided that it did not matter. She did not care. He was offering her a curious adventure, and how could she ever refuse?

“What do you need?” she rephrased her earlier query.

For some odd reason he had chosen her, and if it was in her power to aid him in any way, she would attempt to do so. Surely he would be dissatisfied nonetheless - but that had absolutely nothing to do with her, and everything to do with him.

“Please come with me at once,” he finally replied, without actually explaining anything of his plans for her. “If inconvenient, come anyway.”

Drunk on her interest in the mystery that the presented, she decided to follow him outside.

“Come along, miss Hooper,” Sherlock Holmes’ coat billowed behind him.

It only took him over a decade to admit that what he needed both on that night and now, was her - Molly Hooper.

 

 


End file.
